


Izuku Midoriya, the Symbol of Hope

by Phantos



Category: Superman - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alien Midoriya Izuku, Hero Midoriya Izuku, Older!Izuku, Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Teacher Midoriya Izuku, U.A. Teacher Midoriya Izuku
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22935808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantos/pseuds/Phantos
Summary: All-Might is known around the world as the Symbol of Peace, a man who had famously traveled the world to protect it and its people at all cost from the people that threaten their safety.Superman may be a fairly young hero with only a few years in the public eye, but he is one who has set his sights to be as his family insignia entails; the Symbol of Hope to match All-Might's own position.
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Original Male Character(s), Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might
Comments: 31
Kudos: 243





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 3/2/2020: changed to present tense to match the newest chapter.

Izuku Midoriya likes his job; he would go as far to say he loves what he does. Heroes always held a special place in his heart, growing up. He would watch every news report when it was live and the recordings he missed when he was at school. He checked the news on his phone religiously, nearly once every waking hour to see if something new had arisen in the world. He has cataloged the name, hometown, quirk and recorded history of every hero he can in his Journals for the Future, growing his stack to a whopping seventy-four before he had to stop the constant logging of information. He still has the stack sitting in a box, neatly organized by number, back in his apartment.

Only problem was that he could not exactly become a hero like all the other kids. He lived alone with his mother in a more rural part of Japan than most heroes originated from, and they weren’t exactly living a life of luxury out in the “boonies,” as his coworkers had called it (they meant no harm by it; they liked him still, and he liked them too.) His father worked overseas in the Americas providing money from his job as a university professor in the center of the country and for Izuku and his mother in their home in Japan; his mother worked as a clerk in a shopping center not too far from their home; together they made enough money to get by with a single kid in the family, that being Izuku himself, and hero schools were costly, especially in Japan. Even with what extra they saved up, it would be run close to dry by sending Izuku to any one of the schools across the country and Izuku didn’t want to do that to them.

He did not complain having to go to a normal high school and be a normal Japanese student like the rest of his peers. A few of them could be quite rude, and were towards him when he refused to show off his quirk like the rest of the boys trying to boast their splendor to their classmates, but Izuku could pay them no mind. Their words were only words, and the teachers were smart enough to keep themselves from having laws broken on their campuses.

He passed through high school just fine with his grades and his inherent strength and was set to go to college, had the opportunity of a lifetime not made it his way; a chance to work at All-Might’s agency. There wasn’t a hero better known across the world than the number one from Japan. The blond and muscular pro was someone Izuku kept an eye on as he grew up more than anyone around him did, and more than he did for any other hero. Izuku wanted to be like the man when he grew up, and what better an opportunity to learn from the man than work at his agency?

For better or for worse, the position up for grabs was a desk job more than it was a field job. Pushing papers, cracking numbers, writing reports and filing old data of All-Might’s daily sightings and paperwork from his to-do meetings, but it was a flurry of tasks he was all too familiar with in schoolwork and personal work combined. Izuku was quick to apply when he found the opening, convincing his mother to let him go out for an interview and a chance to prove himself. One trip, a face-to-face with the employers, and a subtle show of his capabilities thanks to his enhanced sight and hearing, and the job was his. Thank the stars it was cheaper to rent a place to stay than it was to go to U.A. or college.

Izuku keeps a picture of him and his mother – taken from the day he left for Tokyo to his new apartment – right on his desk, beside his computer. The most prominent parental figure in his life was hesitant to send her only child away so quickly out of high school knowing his destination was not for a college degree, but the woman was always supportive of him and his dreams and he knew his choice to skip out on a hero school for her sake had almost made it for naught. It took time and conviction, but Izuku was able to earn her blessing for his new future residing in the number one hero’s hometown and headquarters for his first start in the real world. It was hard for them both to separate, and Izuku blesses the technology he had to call her weekly and video chat with her almost as often.

Four years in the number one hero’s agency grew on Izuku, and the comfort and consistency of his new lifestyle has proven quite relaxing to ease in to. He has upgraded from a desk in a cubicle to a desk in his own office. He has gone from pencil pusher to one of the agency’s most efficient editors of the agency’s affiliates and their documents, reports and resumes. He previously thought he would never wear glasses, but the pair he owns now completed his look better than he likes to admit. He had never met a pro hero before in his life, and in two years’ time has familiarized himself with near 50 different heroes, including the number one man he honored. And that dream of a being a hero slowly became a reality, too.

Izuku cherishes the office he was given. It is a mostly boarded-off room from the rest of the floor, leaving him with windows that only led to the cityscape behind him and the rest of Japan breathing down his shoulders as he types away on his computer; they are not wall-sized windows either, just two by two meters of glass behind his left or right side. For the most part, the walls were soundproof, which left the green-haired teen the privacy to play music to help him work and chat aloud to himself with the habit he has never grown out of. He is honest about the cluttered mess the room was from his assortment of paperwork and personal flourishing, but it makes the room feel less lonely so he probably will not be cleaning it anytime soon.

It is the privacy Izuku adores second most, after years of living in Tokyo surrounded by new age and old age heroes and the bustling inner city and a world he had only ever seen on T.V. growing up. Little people in the building can hear him; little people outside can see him. He gets to control the temperature of his room more manually with plug-in fans to make up for the two suits he wears, one over the other. With his own workspace provided to him by All-Might himself, he has control of the windows too, meaning he can leave them open whenever he feels like it. He can listen to the streets fifteen stories below him bustling with the every-day traffic and civilian crowds. He can hear the planes and helicopters flying overhead and the pilots in them reporting condition and the news. He can hear where other heroes are on the job and how successful they are at their job, and he can hear the places they are not in but need to be.

Even more than the privacy of his office, does Izuku appreciate the times he gets to hang up his coat and throw on his cape.

* * *

Robbing a bank in the modern day and age was preposterous to a lot of people, but the process is easier for some depending on their means of transportation. For the L.A. Villains, it was Aoijin’s quirk to enlarge himself as a ride for his partner. For more common thugs it is a six-wheeler truck or van. For Doko Toro, it is a super-boosted and rocket-wearing motorcycle.

Toro had stolen the bike before he got anywhere near a bank, knowing full well there were so little heroes who would be able to keep up with the prototype tech before he disappeared north with the money in pocket. That bike could move, and move it did when he jumped out the bank window with a sack of cash over each shoulder. The thing is built with a self-drive interface, having a complete G.P.S. in its system to map out routes and control speed output, which helps Toro immensely when taking it for a drive at twice the speed of the bullet trains.

A quick hop into the place and using his quirk to get what he demands for faster and he is racing down the road at a breakneck pace. He can barely see the civilians and heroes he passes in a heartbeat, but the pace of his own and the adrenaline fueling it is enough for him to enjoy the thrill of the heist now that he can feasibly get away with it. Under a minute’s time and he is already halfway across the district before even one person can try to stop him.

And then someone does.

Right on the high of victory does Toro nearly jolt off the bike as it comes to a halt. The world around him goes from a blur of color to solid images, with civilians all around stopping nearby and looking towards him from the sidewalks. The horned man is quick to catch himself from flying away and dropping face first into the road but he is a bit slower to notice the bike angled off the ground, its front wheel the only one touching down. Turing in his seat Toro finds the problem at hand: floating behind him, dressed in skin-tight blue with a red flapping cape, holding the back tire in his hand and smiling down at the thief, is a hero he has seen on the news.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Toro shouts, flaring his quirk and glowing his horns, but the hero’s smile does not waver.

“A bit south from here,” the hero replies, throwing a thumb over his shoulder back the way he came. “Heard the alarm of the bank ringing and thought I’d step in to see what all the ruckus was about. Guess my hunch was correct. And I’m guessing those horns of yours had something to do with it? You look underdressed to rob a bank if your quirk wasn’t playing a part in the job.”

Toro scoffs and the glow from his horns subsides. If he isn’t able to make the hero afraid of him, then his quirk is completely useless against the hero. But he has a plan B, throwing his hands back on the throttle and revving on the rockets that had been boosting him from the bank. The engines shoot to life, flames bursting out at the hero and blasting his arm and chest with fire. The criminal laughs with victory in mind, but shortly thereafter finds his laughter caught in his throat when the hero reaches forward and crushes both engines closed in his free hand.

“I’m sorry to tell you that isn’t going to work on me,” the hero tells him, sincerity in his voice. “Probably should have warned you when you turned around. I wasn’t quite sure what you were going to do, but if you’re going to still fight back, I might as well make it quick.” Before the criminal can even panic, the hero’s hand comes chopping down on the back of his head, knocking him out cold and slumping him over the handlebars of the enhanced motorcycle.

The hero lowers the back of the bike back down and is courteous to kick out the stand so it can stay up with the criminal unconscious and limp over it. The civilians and people around him clap and cheer at the display, and he smiles and waves back to them as another hero approaches among the crowd. “Good morning, Kamui,” the caped hero greets his wood-bodied coworker. “It’s been a while since we last talked. I have seen you on the news, though; good to know someone of your heart is still on the scene.”

“We’re even luckier to have you,” Kamui Woods responds, looking over the collapsed criminal. “I doubt I would have been able to catch a bike like this in time after hearing it pass me by. Thank you for being able to stop him.”

“Someone would have caught him all the same, if not here then down the line when he had to stop. He wouldn’t have been able to drive this forever. I’m just happy to catch him when—” The hero’s head snaps to the side, his small ponytail flicking over his shoulder and his body rising in the air as his voice cut off suddenly. His face contorts a moment to a serious expression before it lightens as he faces the wooden hero again. “Do you mind brining in this man for me? Duty calls due west. Credit’s all yours for the apprehension and return of stolen property and money.”

“No problem at all, but I’m still dropping your name when they ask what happened,” Kamui agrees, his arm expanding to an amalgamation of branches and wrapping around the criminal and bike. “Do your best, Superman.”

The dark-haired hero nods as he wipes dust off the diamond symbol on his chest and salutes with his other hand. “As always. Same to you, Kamui.” Without a moment to hesitate, he crouches where he floats before shooting off into the sky and curving around the buildings, leaving behind only a wave of wind and the clap of the sound barrier.


	2. Chpater 2

The Earth is beautiful, in Izuku’s eyes. From below among the people to high in the upper atmosphere, there was little about the world he could find that was anything less than a pretty sight. The fact he was blessed with the opportunity to fly so high without penalty made him smile. It helps he is no t afraid of heights, too, or that would have ruined the majesty of the Earth’s curved horizon from halfway between it and the Moon.

Even from so high up, the world he is familiar with below stays with him thanks to his excellent hearing. There is a concert in Sydney celebrating the works of the late symphonic composer Zìdòng that he finds quite soothing to hear. America is celebrating their old holiday of independence and their fireworks are much louder than last years’. A crowd of people in France cry out in fear as a man made use of his quirk to encase and lift a building, as the police reported, but Izuku leaves it to the heroes on the scene to stop him before the man could send it flying anyone’s way and place it back down where it belongs before it could crumble in their grasps; there is no reason to impede on the good work of other heroes.

It was always tempting to Izuku, to fly off in a moment’s notice and do the work of a hero when he could. But he is not the only hero in the world, and he is not the only one capable of amazing feats. It helps him ease up and act only as a part-time hero knowing there is someone else in the world who can do what he did; if not one-to-one, then an end result similar to his all the same. Not everyone can do what he does, but every hero can save a life and stop a criminal. Izuku believes in his coworkers that greatly.

He is disappointed his costume does not come with pockets or any means of extra carryon options. He can’t carry a notebook unless always in his hand, and if ever the opportunity arises for a good photo he would need to keep his phone in his hand at all times. Unlike most heroes, Izuku works empty handed because they alone are plenty enough to deal with the problems at hand alongside the rest of his body. But that is what he gets for wearing a hand-me-down uniform and not a government approved costume.

“ _Another sighting of the hero of hope, Superman, today not only in the heart of Tokyo, Japan, but all across the southern Asian coastline_.” Izuku picks up the news report as it happens, tilting his head towards the point of the broadcast’s origin. “ _The titular young hero appeared on the streets of Tokyo stopping one Doko Toro moments after he had robbed Norinchukin Bank of thirty million yen, catching the criminal by a prototype speed bike developed and earlier reports as missing from its creator, Haiteku Sokudo_.” Ah good, Izuku grins to himself, the owner was found. Hopefully the damage he made to the boosters is an easy repair for the man known in Japan for engineering everything with extra speed. “ _The blue-clad man was only around for two minutes, however, before flying off into the sky and leaving fellow hero Kamui Woods to bring the criminal behind bars with another criminal the woodland hero caught only minutes after trying to vandalize a local tea house_.

“ _But that wasn’t all the world got to see of Superman_ today,” the reporter continues. “ _Reported only minutes later in Yunnan, the flying superhero was seen again incapacitating and knocking out a man with a giant transformation quirk only seconds after he transformed. For the next hour after, reports and sighting came flying onto the web; of the man zooming by to stop a speeding car from hitting a child; of him stopping a bullet and talking a man down to turn himself in and be appointed to a mental hospital; to the hero appearing on the shores of Tamil Nadu, India, ushering fishing boats into the sea in a manner reminiscent of when he had carried the broken and sinking Delta cruise line onto the shores of Shirahama Beach almost two years ago today_.”

Izuku remembers that day too. It was his official debut as a hero after a week with a license and not a clue in the world what to do to let the world know who he was and what he was here to do. He had heard the screams of the passengers as the ship started to lean off course and throw its people to the side, and he had gone and lifted the ship from the bottom and bring it to the closest piece of land he could. Five thousand people saved before the majority of them could fall into the ocean, several heroes among them who had done their best to keep the passengers around them from harm, and Izuku thanked each and every one of them individually for their work done with his hands tied and digging into the lower plating of the ship.

“ _Superman still stands as one of the few heroes who have done so little in front of the camera, leaving the people he helped today with nothing more than a smile, a wave and call to live well. There has yet to be another sighting of the man since his last act over an hour ago and many believe it may stay that way for the next few days. While a beacon of hope in the eyes of the public, he seems to be a man who appreciates his privacy a great amount. If that is the case, then if you can hear me, Superman – and every other hero who may be listening – thank you for your work and protection of our peace_.”

Izuku smiles and looks down to the Earth. “Any time,” he responds, knowing full well the only one to hear his voice would be himself. The clouds beneath him roll by, allowing the light of day to fall again on his home country. “It’s my home too. Least I can do is to help protect it.”

But it has been an hour since Izuku took to the skies to relax and watch the Earth spin below him. He still has work to do back in the office. He pats the shoulder pads of his cape and tests the band holding his hair back in a puff before he tilts to the Earth and pushes himself home with his smile intact. He loves his life.

* * *

Yagi Toshinori waits patiently after knocking on the door of one of his agency’s coworkers. Midoriya Izuku does not answer right away, leaving the lanky blond man in the silent hallway for the plenty of seconds he spends waiting. When he knocks again, there is a muffled, “One moment,” followed by a rumble of clatters and some soft scoffing. It is only a few seconds later before the door swings open and standing in its place is the tall, dark green haired man Yagi was hoping to see.

“Ah, good afternoon, Toshinori,” Midoriya greets him, one hand resting on the door frame and the other adjusting square glasses back up his nose. His noise is nearly drowned out by the clamber of the office behind the blond man. “What can I do for you?”

“I didn’t see you at lunch earlier,” Yagi mentions to the taller gentleman. “Wanted to check on your progress on our sidekick’s weekly reports in the database. Finally got out of a meeting of my own earlier, so I thought I’d check in now and take a moment to talk with you in general.”

“Ah, of course. Please, come in.” Yagi takes the kind gesture and enters the room while Midoriya holds the door open. He steps around a fallen stack of papers and an empty box in front of the man’s desk. “Apologies on the mess. Kicked it over getting out of my chair.”

“You really should let us invest in a filing cabinet or” – Yagi looks to the boxes of papers lining the wall on the other side of the room – “twelve. It wouldn’t cost us too much to get you some, or just move them from other offices here that aren’t using them this much.”

Midoriya only shrugs as he piles papers and stacks them sideways back in the box. “It’s easier to take work home if it’s all in a box. Don’t want to turn heads on the train carrying a cabinet to my apartment. Besides, it feels like I’m back home.” Midoriya sets the box back atop another before offering Yagi a seat and dropping into his own. “Still feels like I’m in high school writing an essay and researching sources. Is that weird?”

Yagi doesn’t think it is. Midoriya wanting to feel at home while at work sounds normal to him, a way to remember the people and place he left behind to come and work at his agency. Yagi wears a costume with a belt buckle reminiscent of his old master’s buckle; a way to remember her and what she had done for him. Then there was Midoriya’s hero costume as whole that fell under that topic, if he remembers correctly.

“I saw the news while I was on my lunch break,” Yagi moves on, nudging around papers on the desk to look at the notes and profiles of heroes and sidekicks he knows are affiliated with his agency. “Impressive stuff earlier this afternoon. Quite some speed you have there; never ceases to amaze me.”

Midoriya smiles at him, glasses dipping a bit and reflecting light from the young man’s computer. “Apologies I rushed out like that without notifying you,” he confesses, bowing his head in the process. “Been too long since something caught my attention like that; I couldn’t help myself.”

“You stopped seven criminals and saved dozens of different lives. ‘Couldn’t help yourself’ to get out of the office and be a hero doesn’t sound too convincing.” Yagi smiles kindly back at the man. “How am I not supposed to be proud of what you do? You spend enough time in this box of an office excelling at your work; you deserve to be out there doing what you love. I can’t hold you accountable for that.”

“But Taikappu can.”

“Oh right. She could do that.” Yagi hisses and rubs his jaw. “I’ll do what I can to keep her off your back. Your own track record should be enough to wane any negativity. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Thank you.” The clacking of Midoriya’s keyboard bounces off the walls between their silence. “And I’ll make sure the revisions are ready by tomorrow. Not too many left to get in time, hopefully before I even leave for today.”

“That’s good.” The blond man pats his knees as he breathes and darts his eyes to and from Midoriya. “There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. Or ask you, really. I was given an offer a few months back, during my last tour outside of Japan; it’s the reason I’ve been back since then, actually.”

Midoriya raises an eyebrow and readjusts his glasses. “You have been back since January,” he commented. “I think most of us here are used to seeing you bounce around the world every few months. I thought it was your injury tying you down with Recovery Girl in the country, since it’s been so long. What were you offered?”

“A position at U.A. The principal asked me to be a teacher for the heroics classes next school year in the spring, and he’s been updating me on everything regarding the rest of the staff and its usual schedules of events and classes before I find myself actually working with them. It’s…actually about finding the next wielder for my quirk.”

It’s that statement in Yagi’s answer that has Midoriya leaning back in his chair, face draped in bafflement. “You’re looking now? I thought you had a few more years before your injury became that taxing on your body.”

Yagi nods. “I do, but the more time I spend as All-Might, the less time total I’m able to do so. I’ve lost a whole hour in the past year, and it feels my rate of loss only increases over all this time. I’m hoping somewhere within the first years – or even the second or third year students – I’ll be able to find someone proper to carry One For All into a new age of heroes.”

“Huh,” the young man hums. “That does sound like a good opportunity, for both a protégé and a retirement plan for you.” Midoriya smiles to Yagi’s soft laugh. “At least now I’ll know why you won’t be around the agency as often—”

“I was actually hoping you would join me around U.A.,” Yagi cuts in, leaning forward in his seat. “As Superman.” Of all the information Yagi had dropped on the young man’s lap, that nearly sends the boy flying out of his chair in bewilderment.

“Wh—you want me to go to U.A.? _As_ Superman? Not me?”

The older hero waves his hands in front of them. “You can be there as yourself, too. I won’t be buff all the time on their campus; I can’t hold form for that long. There wouldn’t be a problem with you being Midoriya Izuku on campus either. With how proficient you are here as part of the staff, you’d have no problem being mistaken by others as though the school was trying to steal your skills for themselves.”

“But would that not be suspicious?” the young man counters, leaning forward in his seat too. “I don’t exactly change form like you when in costume. If people know I’m on campus as well, they’d be able to put two and two together. I’m lucky enough as it is to get by as a passing image when I’m out there. And why me?” His arms cross over one another as he leans over his desk. “Why do you want me to go with you to U.A.?”

Yagi drums his fingers on the edge of Midoriya’s desk and heaves a sigh. “A few reason, actually. With how fast you’ve been rising in the ranks to be in the top thirty of heroes, most of the students there would probably love to learn from you. Your mindset is one I think is already perfectly cut out for our job, and I believe passing it on to the younger members of your generation would be wonderful for them. But I also believe it would be good for you, spending more time as the hero you always wanted to be, right? No more hiding in a boxed office space wearing fake glasses and a baggy suit.

“You told me you always wanted to go to U.A. You wanted to be a hero, and I wanted to help you become one, because everyone deserves to be one.” Yagi fiddles with the cufflinks of his suit, buttons with the engravings of the mask Torino wore. “You came to me with your dream and a pre-tailored costume, and with it you earned yourself a license and a place in the rankings. I want to let you become the full time hero you deserve to be without worrying about your identity and what’s behind it.”

Midoriya Izuku was an interesting intern within the wall of All-Might’s agency, and Yagi was thankful to have met the boy before he had reached his twenties on a visit to the place after another stop home from the southern African countries. While listed with super strength in his records, the boy showed several more impossible skills when cornering the number one hero about his health and the hole of a scar on his chest that he thought he kept well-hidden underneath his blazer and button up. One meeting with Naomasa to check the validity of the boy’s story and explanations and Yagi found himself a new task to complete: helping a boy live out his dreams and become a great hero.

Yagi does not believe his job has been completed, and he wants to see through on his promise.

“What about my mom and dad? What about my job here?” Midoriya continues pestering for answers, a frown plastered on his face. “People here know who I am. They can put two and two together if Superman and I both appear at U.A. I don’t want my name out like that and I don’t want my parents’ on their either.”

“I’m not going on the news to announce that I’m working with the school; you don’t have to either, in either of your looks. The principal and I can work a cover story for you so no one here questions you about it—”

“U.A.’s principal? Wait, does he already know about me?”

“He knows of _Superman’s_ affiliation with this agency.” Yagi waves away Midoriya’s worry with his hands. “He said nothing about knowing who you are or that you two are the same person, but he knows Superman from what I’ve had to say about you on the news and he wants to meet you and offer you the position himself. He’s been pestering me since February to finally meet you in costume. You don’t have to and I’m not going to make you; I’ve waited this long to tell you about it at all.”

Midoriya sits quietly with a look of contemplation, his bottom lip jutted to the side while he leaned back in his chair. His glasses flash as the computer between them switches screen before it dims completely. “So…you’re asking me to be a teacher? I don’t exactly have any degree or teaching qualifications.”

“Not as a full-time teacher,” Yagi shoots the notion down. “Nedzu’s only hiring me on as a heroics instructor. It’s the hero departments’ last class of the day. I’ll be one of the many rotating teachers in the school’s roster to teach them in the one period, and Nedzu wants me to focus on their star class, 1-A—”

“Isn’t there no class to that this year? I don’t remember seeing them at the Sports Festival.”

Yagi shrugs and scoffs under his breath. “Their homeroom teacher isn’t the most lenient of people, if what Cementos told me is true. Anyways, since he offered me that class, he was considering giving you the same position but for the sister class, 1-B. Nedzu’s convinced you’re my protégé, but he knows I haven’t given you my quirk _after_ I told him. But the offer still stands. I’ve got thirty-seven voice messages that tell me so.”

Midoriya sighs again before he nods slowly. “I’ll…think about it. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Take your time.” Yagi does not argue with the young man. He has dumped quite the exposition on his desk for the past fifteen minutes. “I’m not leaving the country for a while, and if you want to contact Nedzu directly, his number’s on U.A.’s website so you can give him your answer yourself. You probably have until March before he thinks the window is closed. Actually, he’d probably still be waiting during the next school year. I don’t think he wants to close it on you.”

Midoriya nods again as they both rise from their chairs, Yagi taking the opportunity of the younger man’s mulling to take his leave and head elsewhere around the office. He has a meeting with his publicity agent around the corner; he hates to be late for that man. “Thank you for stopping by, All-Might. I’ll…be in touch, once I have my answer.”

“Thank you,” Yagi expresses his gratitude, smiling all the while. “I’ll be patient; don’t worry. I won’t force you into anything you say no to. Unless it’s finishing the edits on our affiliates’ documents and reports. Kinda need you to do those for me.”

The dark-green-haired man laughs to the man’s humor. “I’ll make sure they’re done by the end of the night, no need to worry sir. You can trust me.”

“Never doubted you.” The number one hero shuffles his lanky for as he walks back out into the bustling office space of the fifteenth floor and waved the young man goodbye before closing it behind him. Yagi had only ever doubted the young man once, back when they had first met. It has been two years since, and the Symbol of Peace has yet to relive that emotion towards the young boy who promises hope. He doubts that will ever change.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy thanks to Raef for beta-ing this and applying severely needed edits

Izuku lives in a one-room apartment. It is compact — there is not much space for flourish or personal flair — but to him it is comfortable. He has a desk shoved against the far corner of the room, one he covers in work papers and newspapers for him to shuffle through, organize, and record in his own personal journals before he goes to bed. His television rests atop his dresser across the room, leaving a foot of space between it and the bed he had to fill the rest of the used space, a comfy queen-sized mattress Izuku had been happy to buy when he rented the place.

He lets the T.V. run the news while he writes, idly picking up ambient notes on heroes to add to their profiles. It is white noise to him and one of the few times he closes his windows and tunes out the outside world. There are heroes that work the nightlife and, surprisingly enough, not as many villains who choose to act out in the dark. It seems most criminals share the mindset of some heroes, using the daylight and the public to push their image and act. Izuku does not care much for that aspect of the career. All that matters to him are the lives he saves and the smiles he sees.

Izuku never works a mission with other heroes and officers, despite his position in the public eye. He has met several high ranking heroes over the two years since he got his own license, but their meetings, more often than not, came through last-second greetings during their missions where he swooped in once he heard things going south or when the missions were starting and they sounded too risky to pass up. As clever as the principal of U.A. is, not everyone is like him, so sending messages or requests for Izuku’s help was an act the green man assumes most people gave up on as he continued to appear on other heroes’ missions.

It is thoughts like that that continue to distract Izuku from his personal work, tucking away his pencil and papers while he takes stock on his bed. The opportunity to work at U.A. as an instructor for the heroics program is an enticing offer, he cannot deny that. Izuku rarely got to talk to children on the job as Superman, zipping around the world and acting on a split-second notice to stop crime when it seemed no one else could. The times he does get to chat with children is never for the better, talking them back down the staircase or to relax and let go of the weapon they hold. Superman is only ever a hero in the eyes of the public with not a second to waste anywhere else. Izuku wonders if that can change.

His phone rings a second before he swipes it off his desk, and he answers the call without hesitation. “Hey mom,” he mutters into the phone, clicking down the volume on his television’s remote.

“Oh Izuku!” she cries through the phone, and Izuku can hear her gushing over the call. “I didn’t catch you in the middle of work, did I? I know you like to take it home with you—”

“No, I’m all done with work. Kinda just… thinking. Relaxing. Got some stuff on my mind. How are you doing? Dad coming home for the summer yet?”

“No, not yet,” she sighs. “Your father’s still working with the university to set up for fall semester. He’s trying to make his classes fully online, remove lectures, and come home more often, actually. He told me he was going to tell you about it over the phone.”

“He hasn’t yet.” The sound of his mother’s voice makes him smile, and the news of his father keeps it on his face. “He did text me that he was going to call on Saturday, so he was probably gonna do it then. You might have spoiled the surprise.” He can hear her grumble over the line, chastising herself for speaking.

“I’ll make sure to apologize to him later, then,” she muses solemnly. “Sorry, sweetie. Hopefully he isn’t too disappointed that you know already.”

“He shouldn’t be. He’ll be spending more time with you. That sounds perfect. I’m happy to know you two are going to be together.” He smiles and gazes out the window of his apartment. “I’ll make sure to call ahead on the days I shouldn’t be coming home.”

He doesn’t ignore how his mother admonishes him for the joke, since he can hear it in her voice that she understood his words were just that. He can hear the smile on her face, even. His dad always does that for her, and it truly does warm his heart to know he will be returning home — hopefully for good. Izuku’s parents truly deserve each other, he believes. He had flown his mother across the Pacific to visit him at work for their anniversary, once, and he will do it again in a heartbeat.

The sun setting out of his sight from the window splashes the other buildings with warm oranges and purples. He counts the lights behind window blinders that cut out in waves, with individual rooms refusing to give as the time flies past. The faint hum of traffic below doesn’t give away to the same pressure, not in his neighborhood, but he finds soothing peace listening to the engines purr and conversations blow in the wind beneath him. He’s fallen asleep to the city sounds before, even once on call with his mother.

But he doesn’t fall asleep to the noises today, as his eyes catch sight of a building down the road several blocks away. His vision zooms in just above the building, to the lone individual standing above it and teetering dangerously close to the edge. And they don’t back away.

“Mom, I’m gonna have to call you right back,” he apologizes over the line, cutting the call short before he even hears her response. He doesn’t have the time to lose a layer and throw on his cape before he leaps out the window.

* * *

Heights were never something that scared Tokessuru, but looking down at the world six stories below does give him time to reconsider his feelings.

He knows of the warping effect that T.V. shows when people look down from high up, but he doesn’t feel that effect. The ground doesn’t dip further when he looks down at it, his head doesn’t get dizzy swapping between it and the skyline of the city, and the only part of him that’s dropping currently is the pit in his own stomach. He’s spent months sneaking onto the roof for lunch, escaping the eyes of his classmates and hiding in the silence where the wind is his only companion. He’s spent weeks looking through the crosshatching fence to his classmates down below, only ever sparing him a glance before going back to their meals. He’s spent days leaning against the fence, brushing his hand along the wires and wondering if he could use his quirk, but backing away at the crowd of students always present.

Now he has the time to himself on an evening after school, campus all but abandoned by everyone else. He has the time alone; no eyes on him to judge, no fingers to draw attention. It is the silence he’s not used to having, but it is hard to cherish the last of anything.

He thinks of his mom, most likely stuck at work now, unaware his last text she has gotten of him making it home safe was a lie. He thinks of Tadayoshi and Naoki, his two math classmates he last saw off as school closed, waving goodbye before he walked around the town until the school grounds were finally empty. He thinks of his idol, the great man whose smile sends his heart soaring and whose heroic actions and unflinching drive to save people has inspired Tokessuru’s own dream to become a hero.

Tokessuru has a note in his pocket addressed to the man, maybe the only thing he’s written in regards to what he’s doing. It’s not to blame the man for doing nothing, or not being there when Tokessuru needed him most while the man was off somewhere else. All he wrote was an apology that he couldn’t turn out the same — that he wasn’t going to grow up and be like him — and a thanks for all he had done despite this.

The gate sizzles beneath his palm, wire melting at the touch and dripping on the school top’s ledge. The wind kicks up around him. It’s a pressure that startles him; he cools his hand and draws back a step from the ledge, grumbling from the back of his throat. “… can’t even work up the courage now, huh?”

“I could help you with that, if you want.”

Tokessuru nearly pops his own ear drums with his scream, taking notice of the young man in slacks and a button up on the other side of the fence standing on nothing but air. The man gives an apologetic smile and ruffles the back of his dark hair.

“My apologies,” he tells Tokessuru, bowing his head slightly. “I thought sneaking up behind you would risk sending you forward, and I didn’t want to make a scene and draw more attention than yours coming over here.” The man looks back over his shoulder to the violet-covered cityscape. “Although this probably will get a fews eyes if I stay right here. Is it all right if I come over?”

The young middle schooler can only blink and nod his head slowly before the older man rises over the fencing and lands softly on the center of the roof. “Wh—who are you?” he asked the man.

The man gives him a smile back. “Ah, right. Talking to you as a stranger probably won’t work.” He pauses a moment and scratches his cheek with a single finger. “My name’s Midoriya Izuku. I… kinda work a bit up north from here. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” His hand rolls as his voice drifts off, gesturing for Tokessuru to speak up.

“Tok,” he offers the stranger. The man accepts the response.

“I wish we could be talking on better terms, Tok,” the man moves on, looking around the barren evening rooftop before staring at the door accessing the rest of the school building below them. “Would you like to go on a walk? The weather’s actually pretty nice out tonight. I was going to go out for a stroll later, but there’s no time like the present.”

Tokessuru really doesn’t want to do that, not with a strange who came out of nowhere. He has steeled himself for this day, for this moment, only for it to be undercut by a guy maybe twice his age barely acknowledging what he is doing. The man is tiptoeing around him, he can tell. It is almost insulting, it takes some average random guy to finally notice him.

“I hope you can forgive me, but I’m pretty sure it’s the only way you’re getting out of this,” Midoriya continues. “I can’t let you take another step forward, not that way. I’m not going to let you fall, kid. You’re humoring me by talking at all, and I’d like to keep it that way. We can keep talking while we walk.” He pushes his glass back up before they can fall from his nose. “I promise you I’ll listen. I’d like to think I’m pretty good at doing that.”

Midoriya holds a hand out to Tokessuru. It’s not one he can reach from where they’re both standing. The man isn’t moving any closer to let him take hold. If Tokessuru was to fall now, the man can probably catch him before he loses his footing. No reasonable adult would keep this much space between him and a possible jumper, would they?

Tokessuru doesn’t take the hand, not when he cools his palms and steps away from the fence. Midoriya’s soft smile seemingly grows at the sight and it doesn’t falter when the teenager chooses to walk towards the door instead of him. “Fine,” Tokessuru sighs, accepting his fate as he opens the door leading below. The man follows behind, closing the door once they're both inside and straggling a step or two away from Tokessuru as they walk.

The man promises they can talk, but he seems to struggle for a place to start. “So” — he looks down the halls as they lower the first flight of steps — “is this where you go to school?”

“Why do you want to know?” Tokessuru finds the question completely suspicious. He’s unable to tell if the man is trying to open up to him or vice versa in some friendly manner, or the office man that had illegally flown in on him with his quirk was just looking for an easy target.

The man simply shrugs. “It’s just… I grew up in a smaller town down south from here. My middle school barely had a second floor. Then I come here and there’s barely a building in sight less than four stories tall. It’s got to be a lot harder to learn with so many classmates around; not enough time or attention to get from your teachers.”

As if there was any time to spend with them at all, Tokessuru scoffs internally. The teachers had more important things to deal with than their students’ questions on homework and personal problems; at least, that’s how the teachers saw it. He doesn’t voice his thoughts to the man, though.

Midoriya doesn’t pay it any mind anyways. “Probably have a lot more classmates than I did,” he carries on. “I bet it’s a lot harder to remember all their names too. I had classes with all but three other kids, I think, so I nearly knew everyone from my grade. My grade was actually pretty easy to remember. Made a few good friends I sadly haven’t kept up with as I’ve grown up. You make a few of your own?” Tokessuru can feel the man’s eyes on the back of his skull as they descend another flight of stairs. “Or are they the reason you went to the roof?”

They stop at the base of the steps. Midoriya stays behind him still, but Tokessuru wishes he was closer so he could punch him. The man’s pushing buttons on a keyboard his fingers shouldn’t be touching. “What do you care?” he hisses defensively over his shoulder.

“I work at a hero agency,” Midoriya replies, brushing aside the harsh tone and keeping his own soft. “Saving lives is kinda the job. Looking out for people is prefered. Prying’s bound to happen. A kid standing on the edge of a building shouldn’t be ignored.”

The man knows the password, Tokessuru notes internally. He drags down the wall until he’s sitting at the base of the stairs and it doesn’t take long for Midoriya to walk closer and ease down beside him. The young teen still does not look him in the eyes. “You… work for a hero agency?” he asks. He’s mystified at the reveal, but still hesitant to accept and believe.

The card that’s set on his knee turns his trust otherwise. “I do. I work at All-Might’s agency, actually. I’ve gotten to meet him a few times, too. Big building, but small world, all things considered. Shoulders are a bit more broad in person; wasn’t expecting that the first time I met him.”

It all felt too intricate to be a set up from a villain, Tokessuru considers. Most criminals are sharp and to the point, and even the rare occasions barely go the length of printing out business cards to talk to children. Any seeing a kid on top of a building probably would have taken him hostage by now or ignored him entirely. He isn’t going to look this in the mouth.

“All-Might’s agency… you work with the Number One Hero?”

“More I work for him, with a lot of other people in the same building. I barely get to spend time on the job with him, but I’ve learned a lot under him. I’ve been able to do so much because of him. The man’s my idol.”

“He is cool,” Tokessuru agrees with a half-hearted shrug. “Not my favorite hero, but he is cool.”

“He really is.” Midoriya shifts in the corner of Tokessuru’s vision, and the teen barely glances over to find the man staring more directly at him. “It’s because of him I’m able to be here and do things like this. That I can be here to help you, if you let me.”

Tokessuru can trust the man, can’t he? Midoriya has hero connections, people who can do good and whose job is to help people. Why couldn’t he help?

How would he help?

“What are you going to do?” Tokessuru asks softly, gaze turning away from the man. Midoriya doesn’t seem to mind.

“Report it, or them, the kids that urged you up there,” the man answers. “They should be held accountable for their actions. Getting you that close to taking your own life is something they can’t get away with.”

“Will any of them listen to you?” Teachers have been complacent before, Tokessuru knew. It is maybe the only reason things came so far. That and his inability to stand up for himself, he notes dryly.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty convincing,” Midoriya replies earnestly, almost catching the teen off his guard. “They’ll definitely listen to me; if not, then I think All-Might would be more than happy to vouch for you.

“The only thing we need is your word.”

Tokessuru doesn’t respond right away, not as Midoriya looks at him when he finishes talking. The promise of a whole hero agency behind his back — him, a nobody middle-schooler to the greatest hero agency in the nation — is a heavy set of hands on his shoulders. They don’t feel weighted or forceful; they don’t try to push and hold him down. They’re a tight grasp on his uniform, connected to a body of trust and faith that warms him to the core.

He turns his head to the suited man beside him, finally. “Are you a hero too?” he asks Midoriya.

There’s a strange look behind the smile the dark-green-haired man gives him; humor, Tokessuru thinks it is. It resonates with a smile the boy’s familiar with from the hero he watches on the news. “The most I do in the office is look over hero etiquette and copy-editing my employees’ reports before they’re sent to the police. The most of a hero people see me as is one that saves my coworkers’ back from ridicule and unjust hate. When I try to save people, I try to save them here” — his hand juts at Tokessuru’s chest before rising to point at his head — “and here. If I can help people find peace within themselves in these places, then I’ve done my job.”

“Then thank you.” It is the hands on his shoulders that push Tokessuru forward, bowing his head to the older man while they both stay seated. It’s hard to stop his hands from twitching atop his knees and he takes time to steady his breath before it wavers under rising water. “Thank you for finding me, Midoriya sir. My teachers always say standing up for yourself will strengthen your resolve, but—”

“It’s a flawed system,” Midoriya carries on for him, resting a hand atop the boy’s back. “We live in a society, pardon my phrasing. We don’t live alone or as individuals and we do not work alone. If we are not looking out for each other and taking care of one another, then our entire system is pointless. Everyone must find their own strength and resolve to push forward, but there is no reason you need to embark on that search alone. We will be here for you to lean on for support, for guidance, and for peace. I am here to help you.”

Tokessuru doesn’t move from his bow as he struggles to control his tears. Midoriya doesn’t move the hand on his back as he waits. The light of sunset peaking through the window continues to rise over their heads, but there is still warmth hugging the boy as the sun disappears.

It is Midoriya who stands first, finishing their way down the steps and waiting at the turn to continue the descent. “I should probably get you home first,” he states. “Your parents are probably worried their son is out so late. My mom would have my ear if I wasn’t at the dinner table by this time.”

“It’s fine,” Tokessuru sniffles, wiping his tears on his sleeves as he follows down the steps. Midoriya doesn’t move as the teen walks around him and continues his trek down the next set of stairs. “My mom’s probably still at work. No one’s going to be home. She probably thinks I’m still there.”

Midoriya does not dig for anything deeper than that. Tokessuru is grateful the man doesn’t ask questions that don’t have good answers. “This might be a bit harder to explain to her when she does get home, then,” the man says instead. “I can explain to her what I know about your situation if you’d rather keep the rest for a therapist. That’s up to you.”

“Tell… my mom?” He will have to see a therapist? “No… we don’t—”

“Do you love your mother?” Midoriya speaks with a soft voice, so slick Tokessuru feels the cut of his words like a knife against his neck before he can feel the man lunge at him.

“What? Of course I do—”

“Then trust her.” There is no blade in Midoriya’s hand when it settles atop Tokessuru’s shoulder. There’s no killing intent when he smiles at the boy over his other shoulder. “You’re still a minor, so we do need her approval to be around to help you. All-Might’s agency has several therapists appointed to the office for heroes who need help, too. Even heroes go through tough times, sometimes rougher than they alone are capable of handling. They help save lives, too, and I can think of one who would probably be best for you to meet and speak with.

“All we need is your mother’s approval,” he continues as they reach the first floor. “If you love her and you’re confident she loves you too, then you or I have to tell her. It will hurt you both for her to know you haven’t been truthful to her, but that pain will feel like nothing compared to your love. If she loves you enough to trust you unconditionally, she loves you enough to help you when you ask.”

The doors swing open easily under the man’s hand, giving them direct access outside to the school’s entrance. The scene is barren before them, but the silence doesn’t bother Tokessuru. The silence gives him time to think over Midoriya’s words, to talk to himself for the short minute before the gate and realize on his own there is no way he could keep this from his mother.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” the young boy tells the older man as they exit Aldera school grounds. He looks up properly to the man, who looks down directly at him. “Are you a hero?”

There’s a smile over the man’s face again — that familiar, comforting smile — as he gingerly removes his glasses and tucks them into the chest pocket of his vest. “My apologies. I didn’t have the time to dress up before I found you,” he begins. “I don’t like going out without my full costume or someone might recognize me, and you didn’t look like you were trying to draw attention.” A hand rises to cup over the man’s hair, sleeking back before resting on the back of Midoriya’s head. He blinks and widens his smile, and it only takes Tokessuru a few seconds to stare before he nearly falls flat on his ass with recognition.

Superman has a finger over his own lips before Tokessuru can shout. “Do you mind keeping this a secret for me? I like to keep the names separate.”

“Y-you… you’re…” Tokessuru can feel himself having a heart attack at the man before him, at the hero in front of him. This casually-dressed business man who works for and with All-Might was the coolest hero beneath him?

Superman hums and chuckles before he lets go of his hair, allowing it to poof back into the messy look of Midoriya. “My apologies again that I didn’t say anything sooner,” he tells the young boy. “I didn’t want to make you think I was touting around my badge with what I said. Too many civilians forget heroes are people too. Some heroes do, too.”

“Superman… you’re…” Where All-Might is the Symbol of Peace in the eyes of the public — a man who had broken down walls until the world of crime became a shadow beneath the man’s looming smile — Superman is their Symbol of Hope that even when the current generation of heroes passes, those who follow will only carry on their legacy with pride and continue to prevent crime from destroying society. Where All-Might was a towering figure with a gigantic smile and a booming voice, Superman was a foot shorter with a simple grin and a soothing tone. 

Where most boys wanted to become strong and the next All-Might, Tokessuru wanted only Superman’s kindness.

The man barely jolts from his spot as the boy suddenly tackles him in a hug. He doesn’t say a word about the boy’s mumbles and sniffles. He makes no attempt to push the boy off, instead laying his arm around the boy gently and settling into the hug. “Maybe I should have opened with that,” Midoriya comments softly.

Superman heard him. Tokessuru’s hero had seen the young boy in his time of struggle and appeared before Tokessuru could perform his final act. The teen can feel the English insignia underneath the man’s suit, the ‘S’ symbol that decorated the hero’s uniform hidden by two layers of button-up shirts, the symbol itself layered over a soft-beating heart. It really is him, standing before the boy, walking him down the steps of his middle school, promising the boy his hand in helping him... 

Currently returning the sudden hug Tokessuru had given without permission.

For all of Superman’s strength as seen on the news, Tokessuru isn’t expecting to jump out of the embrace so easily. He stands back from the hero, face as heated as his quirk as he tries to compose himself before his idol. “S-sorry about that,” he apologizes with a quick bow. “I… didn’t mean to jump you like that…”

The hero in disguise only smiles as he pulls his glasses back out. “It’s all right,” he says, brushing the boy’s embarrassment aside. “You looked pretty emotional about this. It would have been wrong of me to push you away when I’ve spent the past half an hour trying to show you my full support. Would have offered you one earlier if I knew you wouldn’t mind a hug.” The man’s words do little to kill the boy’s burning face.

“You’re—uh—you’re my favorite hero,” Tokessuru barely manages to whisper. He isn’t too surprised the man can hear him, as the hero raises an eyebrow from behind his glasses.

“Really? I was surprised when you said it wasn’t All Might. Didn’t expect someone a lot like him to be your favorite in his place.”

“You’ve very different from All Might!” It’s a louder outburst than Tokessuru is meaning for it to be, and his brief moment of strength dwindles under the surprised stare the hero gives him. “All-Might’s an everyone kind of guy but he feels like he’s always at arms’ length. You feel a lot more… personal.” It is a poor choice of words, Tokessuru realizes, as he nearly passes out from the heat in his head. It was exactly times like this that the other boys made fun of him for.

It doesn’t help him any when the hero strides forwards through the space between them and throws an arm over the boy’s shoulder. “I try to be, you know,” the hero touts himself proudly. “All-Might’s a busier man than I am, and since I can’t spend too much time around cameras before someone can piece two and two together, I try to be as friendly as I can with who I meet. Don’t want to make every situation feel like a hit-and-run. And I’m honored you think of me as your favorite hero.” Tokessuru does his best to keep the heat away from his hands so he doesn’t end up burning his hero.

He feels the weight of the letter in his pocket, the letter he had directed at his hero. He did not bring it with him for his hero to see; even if he had jumped, he believes Superman might have been too busy elsewhere to ever read it. The man is here, now, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. But Tokessuru doesn’t plan on giving it to him. It’s an apology letter to the man, to the hero.

He doesn’t want to sour the moment or embarrass himself more.

“Can you… tell her? When we get home?” Tokessuru’s voice is soft when he asks, head hanging low and close to his chest. Superman squeezes his shoulder lightly.

“No problem, Tok.” The use of his father’s nickname for him sends his heart soaring to heights it hadn’t when the man was just Midoriya. “I’ve got your back.”

“Kātsuo Tokessuru.” He looks up to the hero barely towering over him. “That’s my name. Tok is just a nickname. But please keep using it.”

“Midoriya Izuku.” The man smiles back. “If you want, you can call me Kal. It’s an old nickname of mine.”

Tokessuru agrees without a second thought, promising not to spill a single word of this to his mother per the hero’s request. He isn’t going to tell her how he walks glued to the man’s side with an arm still over his shoulder, either. It’s too special to him.

“I’ve… actually dreamed of being a hero like you,” Tokessuru admits shyly on their trek. “Everyone else wants to be heroes too, but only one of us wants to go to U.A. He probably will. D-do” — he stutters as he looks away — “you think I can be a hero too?”

Superman looks at him passively. “Do you want to go to U.A. too?” The young teen nods slowly. “You’ve got what, a year or two before you can apply? It’ll be awhile before you can even take the exam. And as you are now, it’s probably not safe to let you just go on the field and act as any other hero. But give yourself some time, open up and accept the help you’re given until you feel like your own two feet are on the ground” — the hero gives him a bright smile — “and I’ll make sure the principal puts you in my class.”

The reaction from Tokessuru is instantaneous as his eyes sparkle up at his hero. “You’re going to be teaching at U.A.?!” he nearly screams. The hero simply nods as his answer and the boy presses into the hero’s side just that much closer.

* * *

_ Dear Superman, _

_ My name is Kātsuo Tokessuru. Hi. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to start this. I’m a big fan of yours. You’re my favorite hero. I’ve watched every clip of you on the news the day it airs. I have a small copy of one of your posters in my backpack every day I go to school. I’m sorry if that sounds creepy, but you’re a real inspiration to me. _

_ I want to be like you when I grow up. I want to be as brave as you are and as cool as you are. I want people to look up to me the way I look up to you. I want to be a hero, even if my quirk is basically nothing compared to what you’re able to do. _

_ But I’m not going to be a hero. I don’t think I can be. I’m sorry. These last few weeks have been hard and the other kids at my school haven’t made this better. I don’t want to be around them anymore. I don’t think I can be. I know they don’t want me to be around them. They don’t think I can be a hero like you or All Might. And I think they’re right. _

_ One of the older boys really doesn’t want me to be a hero. His quirk is kinda like mine. All the boys think his quirk is better. He doesn’t like me wanting to be a hero and he doesn’t like me liking guys like you. He told me I should try again. That I should try to be born as someone worth a hero’s time. I think he might be right. _

_ I’m sorry I can’t be someone like you, that I can’t be a hero like you. I’m sorry to the boys that I can’t be like them. I’m sorry to dad that I can’t be strong for mom. I’m sorry to mom that I can’t be like dad. I love you both. _

_ Thank you, Superman, for being so brave and strong. For being the Symbol of Hope. Maybe, if I meet you in my next life, I’ll find that hope from you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be closer to be a part of it. I’m not blaming you, I promise. It’s my fault I am who I am, not yours. I’ll try to do better after today. _

_ Thank you, _

_ Kātsuo Tokessuru _


	4. Chapter 4

Izuku never eats in the same place during his lunch. Despite how he hides in his office to work all day, he thinks himself open enough with his coworkers to eat around them without throwing suspicion on his identity. There are just days when he wants to eat alone — when he takes to the stairwell and climbs to the elevator on the 20th floor that allows for access to the agency’s roof. It is maybe the most abandoned place under All-Might’s own workplace that he can escape to and be alone while truly basking in the horizon line of the city he’s blessed to live in.

He makes himself katsudon for lunch every three days, both because his mother passed down to him the perfect recipe for the perfect meal he didn’t want to run into the ground from eating so often and because she didn’t want him to bloat and limit his diet to a single kind of dish every day. On the days he brings his katsudon to work for lunch, there is, too, a wonderful dumpling vendor he passes on his walk to the office, who he always buys a dozen from for himself, his district manager, the detective who frequently visits the agency, All-Might and the lady on his work floor who talked to him every evening when they left the office together. With everyone receiving two each, the last two are presents he leaves around for random sidekicks and other heroes working in the agency; a small light in what might have been a bad day.

With his simple meal, Izuku takes a seat on the sole bench atop the roof with his food by his side and he spends the hour watching the world in front of him. Watching the world from the sky high above was one thing, a beautiful sight he can find little elsewhere in a world where the space race parked almost two centuries earlier, but a closer look at the life around him — at the life he commits himself to protecting — is something else entirely.

There is more color to the world than he can see with his enhanced vision above the stratosphere. Only up close can he see the silver and gold of cars darting through the roads; the churning rainbow of civilians swimming around buildings; flashing blues and reds and greens of skyscraper windows from workers and dancers and heroes in training. The sky gives Izuku a web of lights that trail out the life of his new home planet, but only kilometers off the ground does he get a good look at the details of the fibers stringing them together. To him, it is one of the more beautiful sights he gets. He steps up to the edge, held back by the fencing from walking over but close enough to see down the wall of the agency and the mirroring bright colors of people from across the road. He will have to bring Tok up here when the boy was ready.

“You come up here to eat often?”

Izuku glances up over his shoulder to the man floating beside him. Red feathers dance in his vision as they hold up the younger man dressed in orange fur and a glass visor.

“Sometimes,” Izuku responds, looking out again to the horizon line of the city. “It’s a nice view I don’t take advantage of often enough.”

The winged man by his side hums in agreement. “You got that right. I get to spend most of my day up here and I never get tired of this. Couple guys take my attention every now and again, but I always get to go back up here.”

Izuku nods. Even though he acts fast in his hero uniform, keeping that bird’s eye view for the majority of his few hours a day relaxes him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hawks sir. Sorry if being up here worried you.”

The blond man shrugs as his feathers lowers him to the roof’s surface. “Keep a bit further back from the ledge and we’ll be all good. I take it you work here?”

“Yes sir.” Izuku bows in his greeting. At least the man didn’t recognize him by the hair; maybe his only weakness. “Midoriya Izuku. It’s an honor to meet another hero from the top ten, and it’s a shame our agency doesn’t partner with the fourth greatest hero in Japan.”

“Give it a week,” Hawks laughs. “Words around the street is Jeanist has some competition.”

Izuku claps for the hero and stalks back to his food. “Congrats on the promotion, then. You deserve the recognition after all you’ve been doing for us. Want a dumpling?”

A feather stabs into the offered dumpling in Izuku’s hands and flies its way back to Hawk’s hands. “Thank you. And don’t tell the commission” — Hawks leans over Izuku’s shoulder with a cheeky grin — “but I don’t really care about beating the guy. Hakamada cares more about the rankings than I do. Besides, I’d be three anyways with Endeavor all the way above us. Kinda surprised a lot of people like the big grizzly that much.”

Izuku scoffs a laugh. Endeavor is an aggressive hero, he can agree to that, but there was merit to his tenacity and commitment to the program of heroism. For all his anger, shouting and brutality, Endeavor is the greatest criminal catcher and the appropriate second-most intimidating hero in swaying criminals or soon-to-be’s from their devilish actions. His fan base is an impressive vocal approval of the man’s surge to take the number one spot from All-Might.

“Congrats all the same. I’m pretty sure most kids think the top ten to be the same level of greatness as each other.” Izuku smiles at the other hero as Hawks chomps down on the gifted dumpling. The hero is just as laid back as Izuku remembers him from their first and last encounter. There is only a year of experience difference between them but the winged hero always carries himself laxidazily. Word around even All-Might’s agency is the fourth ranked hero was an inspiration himself to all that shared his ideal future of peace and an end of crime in its entirety.

Actually, now that he has the chance to talk to him…

“Hawks,” Izuku calls to the hero before he takes off, the winged man’s mouth stuffed with the dumplings remains. “What’s it like teaching the younger generation of heroes?”

The hero pushes the remainder of his food down his throat and leans against the fence line. “Looking to become a teacher, suit? I remember my own classmates being a rowdy bunch my own teachers got tired of every week.”

Izuku laughs and rubs the back of his neck, fixing his glasses as they dip slightly. “I’m hoping to, yes. An opening was offered to me, so I’m hoping to take it before it’s gone. I work alone in the office so I don’t have the most experience leading and teaching others. And a lot of our apprentices look up to you. I still need to ask some of the heroes here what it’s like interning students, but I was wondering if you have any experience of your own to share.”

Hawks hums and looks to the sky, the clouds reflecting off his visor. “Actually got a kid interning at my place now. A second year from U.A. with a weird food quirk. Been trying to give him chicken wings so he can fly with me, but the kid keeps getting the claws instead. He’s a bit shy though, so I have some other guys back at the agency trying to open him up and be friendly with him while I have to be out. Gonna roam the streets with him tomorrow so I can make sure he’ll handle public attention.

“Training and teaching wise though?” Hawks looks back to Izuku with a tiny smile and a glint in his visor. “I’m just planning to teach him how to be a good person. Only thing I want from this job is to finally make a world where people can just waste away and relax. Only way we’re ever gonna get that though is with confidence in ourselves and our work, and I wanna make sure this kid has it going into the future. Can’t really speak for teaching mathematics.”

Fair enough, Izuku gives him that. He doesn’t expect the winged hero who opened an agency when he graduated high school to have a major field of study. But the answer he gave — inspiring younger heroes to be brave and strive for a world of peace and ease — was sufficient enough. Far more complex than Izuku’s simple “be kind” mentality about the job.

“I’ll give you that,” Izuku laughs and packs up his lunch. “Don’t worry, I already know the field I’m applying for well enough, just need to learn how to handle children. I might give that a try, though, so thank you.”

“What? Abandoning kids back with some random strangers they didn’t agree to intern under? I’ll be honest, I’ve got my own doubts about it.”

“Then you should probably go check on him. I have to get back to my current job.” Izuku swipes up his things and hustles to the elevator, giving the pro hero a quick wave. “A pleasure to meet you, Hawks! Take good care of the kid!”

“Good luck handling twenty, Midoriya-suit!” the hero laughs back, flapping his wings strongly and knocking up a cloud around Izuku before he takes off into the sky.

Yeah, Hawks hasn’t changed a bit, Izuku muses as the doors ping open. At least the man didn’t seem to catch onto his identity. A shame Izuku is only going to make it tougher on himself to keep it a secret. After all, he has a promise to make to a kid. And a home to visit.

And a principal to call.

* * *

With no classes of his own to teach, Nedzu spends his days in his office. He keeps in touch with his staff over his computer and his phones, so he’s just fine locked away in his own room. It leaves him privacy and without distraction, two of Nedzu’s most appreciated things. Especially the privacy.

“ _Baby_ ,” the mutant animal sings as he dances across his coffee table. “ _Baby don’t you lose my number. Cuz you’re not anywhere, I can find you. Oh, baby. Baby don’t you lose my number! Cuz you’re not anywhere, I can_ —”

The ringing of his phone has Nedzu bounding off his desk and over his desk to mute his music and answer the call. He smooths out his fur before picking up the line and responding, “This is Nedzu speaking. How can I help you?”

“ _Hello, this is Midoriya Izuku calling_ ,” the voice over the line responds, his voice having to shout through a loud stream of wind. “ _I’m hoping to apply for a job opening I was told about, and my manager should have mentioned he’s referring me to you for teaching a hero class next year?_ ”

It’s a lot of information to unpackage in just a short amount of sentences, but Nedzu’s brain always works fast, and it doesn’t take long to put “hero class teaching” and “mentor’s referral” together. There is only one man who knows of the position he is giving to All-Might, and that is the man himself; even the rest of his staff is not to be made aware until the end of the fall semester.

But Superman? Calling him directly? For a man of secrecy and sightings only on film, a conversation over the phone was not Nedzu’s first guess. He assumed the man would come flying into his campus from above, light glistening on his back and lighting him with a heavenly glow to match the news reports. But he has him now, so roping him in physically has to wait for another day.

“May I have the name of your manager, to confirm your story?” he asks the man over the line.

“ _Yagi Toshinori, sir_.”

Perfect. “Then I’m happy my message got to you. I’m hoping he didn’t explain the entirety of my message to you; it ruins my job if I have no mystique to share myself.”

There is a loud quack of a bird and a faint apology from Midoriya’s end, and Nedzu believes he understands what’s going on. “ _He gave me the gist of it; teaching heroics for the other freshman class next year. That’s about it though. Is there more to it?_ ”

“That depends on if I can find another use for you.” Nedzu switches the call to the speaker before he jumps atop his desk and paces. “Given you know his real name, I take it you know even more about him?”

“ _I know why he’s taking the job, yes_.”

“Well that encompasses his other job. Between classes I’m hoping to have him interview potential candidates for succession; even those he doesn’t consider will have their interviews processed and added to their files for other heroes to look at when applying for internships. I know the two of you are public heroes but cherish your privacy as any underground hero would, so I would have to find you a position to cover that up.”

The man gives a melodic hum. “ _I could do that for you, actually. Updating the students’ profiles; it aligns with my current day job quite well, really. And I wouldn’t really mind another desk job. Unless you have another idea for me in mind._ ”

“I’ll consider it.” It takes a load off Nedzu’s shoulders fitting in more work on his staff’s schedule, or having to put out an application for another man for the job. Time and money well saved. The constant white noise from the other side of the line eases itself down without warning. “Am I taking your time out of something right now, Midoriya?”

“ _Ah, no sir. I’ve just been...out for the moment. On the move, nothing too important. Though I do have to be somewhere else soon, my apologies_.”

“That’s quite alright.” The quirked rodent drops in front of his keyboard, clacking away viciously on the keys. “Shall we schedule for an in-person application? One without interruption? My schedule’s more than open in the foreseeable future.”

There’s a moment of silence from Midoriya filled only with faint noises of traffic fading in and out of range. “ _I have the day off from work on the fourth of next month. That’s not a weekend, of course. I’m fine with spending it to meet you and apply for the position properly_.”

“Then consider it a date,” the principal sings, saving the meeting in his calendar. “I’ll schedule for an early afternoon hour; 2 pm?” The man agrees to the terms. “Perfect. Thank you for accepting my invitation, Symbol of Hope. It will be quite the pleasure to finally meet you.”

“ _And it will be an honor of mine to finally visit your school. Thank you for the opportunity_.” It marks the end of their farewells as the line dies by Midoriya’s choice, leaving Nedzu to make sure it was hung up. He added two iconic heroes to his staff listings for the same school year. He is still considering positions for his second and third year classes to match with his freshmen classes, but there is over half a year until the new school year starts. Nedzu knows he has the time to consider the possibilities before the pressure weighs down on his shoulders. Now where was he?

“ _Searching through the day and into the night_ ,” Nedzu continues the song, clicking his keyboard to start the music back up, “ _they wouldn't stop 'til they found him. They didn't know him and they didn't understand, they never asked him why!_ ”


End file.
